


you that waft by

by forochel



Series: abo!jjp [1]
Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Canon Related, Canon Universe, Established Relationship, Kitten Kink, M/M, Omega Verse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scents & Smells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 18:05:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20214010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forochel/pseuds/forochel
Summary: from my outline of this: "jinyoung is an insufferable tease and jaebeom just wants to wreck him in retaliation"The only reason that Jaebeom turns to look down the length of the table is the spike of clover in Jinyoung's scent — mirthful and mischievous. Curiosity killed that cat, except in this case Jinyoung is the cat, smug curl to his plush lips as he listens to a fan, fingertips curled into the pink ribbon snug around his neck.It happens so fast, Jaebeom’s head is reeling and he’s already chubbing up before he can fully process what he’s seeing.





	you that waft by

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [GOT7KinkMeme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/GOT7KinkMeme) collection. 

> so first the kink meme happened. then subsequence later linked me [those photos](https://www.google.com/url?q=https://twitter.com/mianderings/status/1133951349895380994) of Jinyoung with a pink ribbon around his neck at a fansign looking for all the world like Marie in the Aristocats, and then we separately had a conversation about omegaverse and scents, and then ... this happened.
> 
> this is honestly just a game of 'hey spot the kink' because I sure as hell didn't tag all of them. spoilers! nothing triggery.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, anonymous prompter!

* * *

The only reason that Jaebeom turns to look down the length of the table is the spike of clover in Jinyoung's scent — mirthful and mischievous. Curiosity killed that cat, except in this case Jinyoung is the cat, smug curl to his plush lips as he listens to a fan, fingertips curled into the pink ribbon snug around his neck.

It happens so fast, Jaebeom’s head is reeling and he’s already chubbing up before he can fully process what he’s seeing.

Jinyoung spots him looking, shoots him a coy smile — blink and you'll miss it — before turning the searing heat of his attention back onto the girl in front of him.

If Jaebeom is slightly distracted after that — reacting a few beats too late, well. No one says a thing, but Mark is giving them both a deeply unimpressed look and the maknae have amped up their ridiculousness even further, fuelled by nervous energy.

Jinyoung appears as composed and unruffled as ever, and it slides under Jaebeom's skin exactly the way Jinyoung probably intended. The clover remains distinct, even as the mossy, faintly spicy undertones that always, always make Jaebeom dream of tumbling Jinyoung in a forest glade with primal satisfaction, steadily thicken throughout the post-signing banter they always engage in.

"Hyuuuung," Youngjae whines under the cover of raucous laughter at Yugyeom and Bambam bantering. He's hanging off Jaebeom's arm; Jaebeom can feel eyes sharp on the nape of his neck. For someone with such doe-like eyes, Jinyoung has the gaze of a predator. "Hyung, I can smell Jinyoungie-hyung planning something."

That brings Jaebeom up short: Jinyoung keeps on a tight lid usually, so that only Jaebeom, who's particularly attuned to him, can smell the nuances in his scent.

He turns to look across the stage, where Jinyoung is leaning against the table next to Mark, the two of them quietly observing and laughing. Well, Mark's laughing. Jinyoung is already gazing back.

"Ah," Jaebeom sighs, "fuck."

"Is it his heat?" Sweet, considerate Youngjae asks. "I'll go get some water." He hurries offstage before Jaebeom can say: no, Jinyoung is just playing with me, as usual.

*

The games that are basically a prerequisite at fansigns — impromptu or otherwise — mean the brownian motion of Jaebeom and his groupmates around the stage. And thus, also, unaccidental touches as Jinyoung and Jaebeom nudge past each other on stage. At one point Jinyoung falls laughing into him, Jaebeom’s hands going automatically up to steady him by the hips.

Jaebeom knows by now that the louder screams are not merely part of his imagination.

“Ah, hyung,” Jinyoung says, giggly and so, so cute. He’s so cutely annoying, Jaebeom’s one and only; crinkle-eyed and slightly pink in the face from Jackson’s relentless teasing.

“Careful,” Jaebeom murmurs, tightening his grip a little just to see Jinyoung’s pupils blow wide, to have the oakmoss in Jinyoung’s complex scent spike a little. He loves it for what it signifies, and for how it melds so well with the anchoring oakmoss in Jaebeom’s own scent.

Jinyoung goes briefly boneless, sagging into him for a splitsecond before he straightens up out of Jaebeom’s hold again, turning organically away. “I’m always careful, Jaebeommie.”

He isn’t careful; he’s _deliberate_. Jaebeom’s brain shorts out a little when the back of Jinyoung’s hand deliberately, carelessly brushes across his navel, so achingly close to where Jaebeom’s steadily growing harder.

“Jesus Christ,” says Mark from two steps behind him, sounding unimpressed and so annoyed it immediately dampens Jaebeom’s rising ardour. “Can you two stop for about five seconds?”

The thing is, Jinyoung’s _scent_ is making Jaebeom unravel one faux-innocent, glancing touch at a time. Arousal is roiling just under his skin, his nerves lighting up whenever Jinyoung’s gaze so much as meets his own. It’s incredible, how with nothing much Jinyoung manages so masterfully to drive him to near-madness anyway.

Jackson prances up, then, nose almost unnoticeably wrinkled, and slings an arm around Jaebeom. On the upstage side of Jaebeom’s neck, he presses an inhibitor patch to Jaebeom’s skin, right inside his collar.

“What the —”

“Manager-hyung gave it to me,” Jackson tells him cheerfully, before smacking a noisy kiss to the side of his head and prancing off to where Jinyoung is glaring daggers across the stage.

And if the pheromone inhibitors weren’t enough, the mere mention of management is enough to bank the embers of desire. Not so much Jinyoung, though, who’s shooting him confused looks from under his lashes, where the maknae have engaged in him in their circuitous, fluffy-headed banter.

*

Jaebeom has been half-hard for what seems an eternity by the time they wave their way offstage, a strange mix of nervous tension and loose, lazy arousal thrumming in his veins as he allows the staff to usher them along long corridors to their dressing room.

Jinyoung is ahead of him, and through some machination of his the maknae explode into the sort of overeager, over-loud confabulation that immediately have the managers’ attentions, have the staff surging up ahead to contain any threat to their chances of knocking off at a mildly humane time this evening.

He is like the sea, pushing and pulling, lapping at Jaebeom’s control, dizzying and unpredictable and so enticing; he draws the eye, pulls at Jaebeom’s attention like a black hole — Jaebeom could fall into the careful examination of him for hours, map him out and memorise him like the work of art that he is.

And so he is drawn into a small room the size of a closet, shelves lining the walls. In the dim gloom, the objects those shelves hold are strange and misshapen patches of darkness.

“Is this,” Jaebeom asks, even as Jinyoung reaches around him to flick the lock on the door, “a props store?”

“I don’t care,” Jinyoung says, voice rough. He drags his knuckles across the straining heat barely contained in Jaebeom’s jeans with firm purpose this time, eyes still teasing from underneath his lashes. Jaebeom can’t help the way his hips chase after that touch, nor the groan that pulls from deep in his chest. Jinyoung’s hair curls on his forehead in sharp, innocent contrast to his actions. “Why can’t I smell you?”

The subtle spice of his desire wraps around Jaebeom, warm and sensual. It’s thoroughly bedded down with the fresh green heart scent of clover that is Jinyoung’s constant companion, which now smells like spring sap risen to the surface, the same way Jinyoung’s arousal has. Brimming over with vitality, life, fantasy fecundity. The cup runneth over.

There is very little way, Jaebeom thinks distantly, deliriously, that anyone passing by this room has no idea of what is going on behind this locked door.

“Jackson slapped an inhibitor on me,” Jaebeom tells him, wrapping apologetic hands around Jinyoung’s hips, rubbing his thumbs into the divots of them. “I would’ve made people nervous, apparently.”

Jinyoung snorts, unimpressed. Jaebeom would spare a little pity for Jackson, but Jinyoung is reaching into his pocket and pulling out — god, that fucking ribbon: silky and shiny and the same baby pink as Jinyoung’s lips. His smile curls smugly at the corners as he fastens it back around his own neck and blinks up at Jaebeom, kittenish in the extreme.

“Fuck, baby,” Jaebeom swears lowly, helplessly aware of how he’s already sinking.

Then he’s being pulled into a searing kiss, Jinyoung’s long-fingered hands on his face. It’s a devouring supernova of a kiss, zero to sixy, Jinyoung sliding his tongue over the sensitive roof of Jaebeom’s mouth and then deftly sucking Jaebeom’s tongue into his own mouth. Somehow, in the midst of all this, Jaebeom’s hands have found their own way — one to the nape of Jinyoung’s neck, tangled in the pink ribbon; the other down the back of Jinyoung’s pants.

He gasps, breaking their kiss, when his questing fingers meet not the slippery, tight furl that he was expecting but skin-warmed metal, slickly stretching Jinyoung. Jinyoung giggles a little, eyes flashing with a clear demand when Jaebeom leans a little further away to gape at him properly.

At this, the last remaining tether to his sanity snaps, and a haze descends.

When awareness returns, he has Jinyoung pinned face into the wall next to the door, Jinyoung’s long fingers strong on his right hip and clutching him closer, their hands clasped and cushioning Jinyoung’s forehead. There’s the dizzyingly tight press of Jinyoung’s buttocks around his cock, his way eased by the the way Jinyoung’s slick is already wetting the crux of his thighs.

"You," Jaebeom pants out into the back of Jinyoung's neck, "are such a fucking tease."

Jinyoung laughs, giddy with delight and the promising grip that Jaebeom has on one asscheek, fingers tucked into the crease between ass and thigh, cleaving him just right. He squeezes his thighs tighter together. "Am I?"

"Fuck," Jaebeom growls and bites at the skin behind his ear, jerking his dick into the tight press between Jinyoung's cheeks. "You - fucking - naughty - kitty."

He comes just like this: all his pent up frustration releasing in a hot spatter over Jinyoung's bared ass, down the insides and backs of his thighs.

“Oh, _gods_,” Jinyoung sighs, “you’re so messy, op_pa_.”

Jaebeom curses again, pulses a little more, squeezing his eyes shut against the overstimulation. His mouth is caught in a lush, deep kiss, Jinyoung swallowing his whimpers, the hand previously on Jaebeom’s hip now cradling his head.

“Clean me up,” he whispers when their lips part, letting Jaebeom go. “Clean up your mess.”

And so he scoops his come as best he can back into Jinyoung, pushing in deliberate circles, fits the plug — which he’d shoved into a pocket — back into him. The others are probably impatient by now, but Jaebeom can’t help himself, loving the clench of Jinyoung’s hole against his fingers when he traces their tips along the skin stretched out around the wide base of the plug, loving the way Jinyoung bucks his hips into his touch.

Jinyoung turns, snatches at his hand, tiring of the teasing, and laps it clean.

Groaning, Jaebeom leans his forehead against Jinyoung’s and breathes.

“You were taking too long,” Jinyoung murmurs into his wrist, sucking briefly at his thudding pulse.

“I’m done now,” Jaebeom points out a little uselessly. He taps twice against the base of the plug lodged in Jinyoung mischievously with his other hand, adds: “Would be more convincing with a tail.”

Turning around and pulling his slacks back up, buttoning himself back in, Jinyoung glares.

With the dark, woody patchouli of Jinyoung’s arousal hanging heavy in the air between them, filling his lungs and making his head light, Jaebeom can’t help but reach out and palm Jinyoung through his slacks. “Baby, do you want me to —?”

“No,” Jinyoung snaps, turning to unlock the door. “The others are waiting — and,” there’s another gleam of that manipulative mischief in his eyes as he glances back over his shoulder, “I want to come with you in me.”

*

In Jinyoung’s room — all alone in the dorm, the boys having invented various reasons to not be at home after suffering through the van ride back with them — Jinyoung drags his gaze over Jaebeom, from his toes up his bare legs, lingers over his naked crotch hungrily before tracing up his torso to pierce Jaebeom through the heart, eyes molten and knowing.

Jinyoung has peeled off the inhibitor that one of their stylist noonas smacked into his neck mere seconds after he’d stepped into the dressing room, which dampened the rich, earthy bass notes of Jinyoung’s scent, made it so that he wasn’t telegraphing his swamping desire to everyone within a hundred metres. What remained were the clean, herbacious, masculine notes of geranium and lavender, undercut by the ever-present clover; the problem is that Jaebeom shares those notes. Smelling what reminds him of himself on Jinyoung goes straight to his lizard hindbrain.

So now his full, intense fragrance drowns out all else when Jinyoung very deliberately, telegraphing every moment, stretches over Jaebeom to retrieve a pair of kitten ears from the bedside drawer.

“Fuck,” Jaebeom says helplessly, as Jinyoung slides them on, settling back warm and heavy over his lap. His ass, so maddeningly untouchable in public, is warm and plush under his hands. Still wet and hot with his slick and — fuck, Jaebeom’s come from earlier — when Jaebeom slides his fingers up into him from the crease of cheek and thigh.

The plug, silver and glossy, has long been discarded along with Jinyoung’s pants, during their mad, stumbling path towards Jinyoung’s bed.

Jinyoung’s lips purse when he gasps, Jaebeom notes dizzily, already high on the heady scent of his own arousal blending with Jinyoung’s. He reaches up to card fingers through Jinyoung’s hair, brush them agains the synthetic softness of those ears. Run the backs of his fingers along the curve of Jinyoung’s real ears, down the sensitive skin of Jinyoung’s neck.

“I ...” Jinyoung’s breath hitches, hands anchoring themselves on Jaebeom’s chest, fingers curled into his undershirt, nails dangerously close to Jaebeom’s nipples, already pebbled and sensitive. “I wa-ant you.”

It’s satisfying, to see how Jinyoung unravels in equal measure under his hands.

“Tell me,” Jaebeom demands, pulling Jinyoung closer, so that his bobbing cock bumps up against the divot in his abs, the suggestion of his hands cleaving Jinyoung apart inches closer to reality.

Jinyoung exhales and leans in, hands sliding up from Jaebeom’s chest to clutch his shoulders, cradle his head. “Baby,” he whispers imperiously, grinding his hips in a slow circle. “Fuck me.”

Jaebeom is not sure what kind of sound issues from his mouth: a whine, maybe; something that makes a look of triumph flash across Jinyoung’s gorgeous face before Jaebeom shoves into him, desperate and unbridled, stretching him open in short, sharp thrusts, holding him in place with a hand secured in the dangerous dip of his lower back, where the hollow of his spine sweeps out in the generous curve of his ass.

“Come _on_,” Jinyoung demands, fingers tightening in Jaebeom’s hair, shocking pleasure down Jaebeom’s spine. “_Give it to me_.”

Obediently, he settles all the way into Jinyoung, slow like honey, the way he’s wanted to since hours before, easing deep into the hot wet sheath of him. There’s something about this that thrills down Jaebeom’s spine. The slide in is obscene; the wet squelch and Jinyoung’s husky moans in his ear viciously satisfying reminders, on each jolting stroke as he picks up the pace, that Jinyoung _wants_ him.

“Like this, baby?” he pants, pressing his feet flat to the bed so he can drive further, deeper up into Jinyoung.

Jinyoung mewls in response, his hands slip-sliding against Jaebeom’s hair.

He’s allowed to have his fun now, with his kitten, writhing and desperate in his lap; lips pink and wet and parted, eyes screwed together in need. Jinyoung lets out a rough, hoarse moan, his head still tilted back, and shifts his hips restlessly when Jaebeom slows down and leans back a little to get wrap a hand around his cock, angrily red and slippery wet.

Jaebeom smiles up at Jinyoung’s pink face and watches the way his mouth falls open even further, draws in a lungful of their comingled scents as he rubs a thumb over the swollen glans, draws two fingers down, presses them to that spot right under the head. The spot that sets Jinyoung wailing and falling back like a puppet cut loose from its strings, his back arching as he comes all over himself and up their bellies.

Jaebeom has to scramble after him to stay connected, if he wants to continue feeling Jinyoung orgasming around him: the erratic squeeze of his ass around Jaebeom. His knees end up under Jinyoung’s ass. Jaebeom unfolds Jinyoung’s legs from where they’re caught under himself and hooks them around his waist, rearing up and folding Jinyoung, who’s still breathless and spasming around him maddeningly, further back in on himself.

Drawing out til just the fat head of his cock is lodged in Jinyoung, he asks, “Okay?” Jinyoung’s so sensitive after he comes, after all.

Jinyoung blinks dazedly at him for a few seconds before clarity emerges and he furrows his brows, lips pressing together in annoyance. Wordlessly, he rolls his hips up into Jaebeom.

“Fu-_uck_,” Jaebeom chokes out, before lowering his head and setting to it, slamming into Jinyoung, filling him up over and over. His sweat’s dripping onto Jinyoung’s neck, and he goes down onto his elbows so he can bury his face in the heady musk of him gathered there, inhale it in great gasping pants, suck at the salt on his skin.

Jinyoung’s gone silent with the percussive force of their bodies meeting, his noises caught in his throat but his fingers scratching down Jaebeom’s back in delicious trails of pain-pleasure. It diffuses across his skin, catches him in a net of delirium.

"Let's have little kittens, huh, Jinyoungie?" Jaebeom pants, barely cognisant of what is coming out of his mouth when Jinyoung is so hot and wet around him: clasping, tight, intoxicating paradise. "Gonna fill you up —"

The words are stolen from his lungs when Jinyoung growls and claws him closer, fingernails digging into Jaebeom's hips.

Jaebeom curses, guttaral and fervent, as Jinyoung flexes his hips and tightens his legs, draws Jaebeom further into himself. When he reaches down to the join of their bodies, Jinyoung keens high in his throat, the muscles in his neck straining against the pink satin wrapped around it. He’s so wet, his slick spilling out over his ass and thighs, wetting Jaebeom’s own groin where they slap together.

He’s dizzy with it, almost, half-blind with pleasure and the grasping, hungry heat around his cock. The spicy musk of Jinyoung’s scent now is almost palpable, a cloud Jaebeom would sink into if he could.

“Gonna taste you,” he gasps into Jinyoung’s wet mouth, his pouty lips parted on soundless moans, rutting uncontrollably into him. “Baby, I wanna taste you, and me, to-together.”

Jinyoung’s eyes are dark, wide, and wild when they snap open. They brim over with something unknowable; something that strikes at the very heart of Jaebeom’s lust. He clenches down hard, pulses around Jaebeom, dragging Jaebeom abruptly over the edge he’s been skating.

His vision blurs abruptly as he jerks into Jinyoung, off-rhythm and coming so long and hard he’s breathless with it.

*

The last thing Jaebeom remembers is easing out of Jinyoung and rolling off to the side to recover.

He must have fallen asleep, because he’s now fully naked — Jinyoung probably took his undershirt off whilst he was unconscious.

Jinyoung, who’s pouting at him impatiently from his perch atop Jaebeom’s diaphragm. He still has those fucking ears on. There’s a very strange, tickling feeling trailing its way down Jaebeom’s abdomen. His hands are on Jaebeom’s pecs, thumbs idly plucking at his nipples. Arousal licks low in Jaebeom’s pelvis.

“Oppa,” Jinyoung murmurs silkily, his mouth curling up at the sides like he knew something Jaebeom didn’t, but was about to blow Jaebeom’s mind very soon. Like Jinyoung calling him oppa didn’t already turn him into putty, didn’t make his cock stir feebly.

Making a valiant effort, Jaebeom hoarsely says, “Mm, Jinyoungie?”

“Oppa,” Jinyoung says again, leaning over him; his scent hasn’t settled yet, still overwhelmingly spicy and musky. “You promised.”

Blinking, trying to get his brain to work, Jaebeom asks, “What did I promise, baby?”

In response, Jinyoung turns over to kneel on all fours, goes down on his elbows. Spreads his knees and presents — Jaebeom chokes on his own breath, because there is a lush, black tail the length of his forearm and matching the ears Jinyoung is wearing trailing from his ass.

It swings hypnotically as Jinyoung sways his hips, looks round to raise his eyebrows at Jaebeom. “Convincing enough?”

“Fucking - hell,” Jaebeom just about manages to grit out as he scrambles to his knees, to pry Jinyoung’s cheeks apart and marvel, to run his hand down the tail, fist at the base and tug lightly.

Jinyoung purrs out a moan, knees spreading wider. “I kept it all in for you, oppa,” he moans, words half-smearing into the bedspread. “Because you said — you said —”

Jaebeom knows what he said, now, and his mouth is _watering_.

“Yeah,” he breathes, and pulls the plug out, swallowing hard when cloudy slick immediately spills out, the scent hitting him full in the face making him think of that mossy forest glade near Jinyoung’s family home in Jinhae again; that lazy afternoon of making love without any pressing schedules. “Yeah, baby, I know.”

He dives in.

*****

**Author's Note:**

> inspiration for the scents came from penhaligon's, my favourite place to wander into and smell things without buying anything. bc I don't have that much money. [jinyoung's scent](https://global.penhaligons.com/us/english-fern-eau-de-toilette/). [jaebeom's](https://global.penhaligons.com/us/douro-cologne-eau-de-portugal/). 
> 
> title is very predictably from [drunk on you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=08iu1JpkeZA), because jaebeom ... did that.
> 
> if you, uh, enjoyed this in any way please leave a kudos, [give this an RT](https://twitter.com/forochel/status/1160783400149684224), and tell me how you felt in a comment! :)
> 
> (eta: also i finished writing this at like 1am so ... pls be gentle)


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